


A different kind of recovery

by littletechiebird



Category: DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Nightwing (Comic), Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics), Superboy (Comic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littletechiebird/pseuds/littletechiebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last two years of his life brought the greatest losses, and the greatest breakdowns. Dick was the one to help him through losing friends and family, and to pick up his pieces time and time again. Tim is sure he’s getting back to who he was, but what’s going to happen when he starts seeing his dead best friend, and talking to him? Why is he seeing him now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Starting Stages

The first time it happened, Tim had felt as if the world was going to drop out from underneath of his feet. He knew his grief was bad, but he had been so sure it was getting better, that  _he_ was getting better. He had given up crazy endeavors, he had started to be productive with his own life, and he had really started to focus. He had learned not to dwell, even if it didn’t always work.

It had been a life changing two and a half years. A lot had happened in that amount of time. Of course, that would be expected. In just over thirty months, there was usually quite a bit that could happen in anyone’s life, but it wasn’t just little things. In that time, he had tried to clone his best friend after losing said best friend, he had lost his father, his girlfriend, and another close friend. Losing that much, in so little time, didn’t that certify a guy the right to just lose it? But the steps towards insanity hadn’t gone too far. He’d had friends to guide him back, and a couple bits of family that got him on a better track and kept him there.

Dick had been the one to experience most of his moments of weakness. The moments where he would break down, crying, screaming, ranting and raving. He’d be a full-on basket case, but Dick took it in stride. No matter what he said or did, he stayed by his side, or the moments where the punches would be thrown, and his hysteria turned physical, his arms would wrap around him tightly and keep him still. The guilt gnawed at him, even now, to know that he’d caused a few bruises and cuts, but Dick always shook his head to put the worries from his mind. 

It calmed him to have Dick there, and made the ache in his chest hurt a little less, though it never went away. He clung to him as if he kept him from falling apart, in the most literal sense. It had gotten to the point where Dick was practically living in his apartment, but the older man didn’t seem to mind. It had been suggested that he move back to the manor, just for a while, but Tim had refused. Even though this space reminded him of Kon, it was his space. He didn’t want to be where he felt as if everyone was going to watch him as if he was fractured glass that would finally shatter with the wrong  _look_  in his direction. He didn’t need it. He’d get better. He was getting better now.

And he had. It was the end of that two and a half years, and he no longer had the nightmares that woke Dick with his thrashing, screaming, and crying. He was no longer afraid to close his eyes. He didn’t flinch, or feel a burning resentment, at the sight of Clark, as himself or Superman. He didn’t cry himself to sleep every night anymore. He could face his friends again. He didn’t lock himself away to drive himself crazy with trying to clone his friend back into his life. 

He was better.

So why, and how, could this be happening now. 

“You aren’t here.” He said defiantly, murmuring it softly as he looked through a file that rested in his hands while he sat at his computer. He was keeping his composure. He wasn’t panicking. This was just one little slip up. It’d be over in just a moment. Just a minute or two. 

“How do you figure?” Kon, or the figure of him that was the figment of Tim’s imagination,  was leaning against the desk, arms crossed over his chest, staring down at Tim with amusement. But Tim never looked up.

“I figure that you are not here on the account that you are  _dead_.”

Kon just seemed to want to laugh at that. He smirked, in stead. “Ah, yeah. There is that little factor. But even though I’m dead, I’m still here, right now.”

“In my head? Yeah. Sure. But that’s where you were supposed to stay.”

“One, Rob, I am not in your head. Your memories, yes. Two, I may love you, man, but I don’t want to get stuck inside your head. No offense.”

A slight smirk appeared on his lips for a moment before it faded away and the pause in his work ceased, and he was back to focusing on his case. Of course, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t still distracted. But he just brought a hand to his eyes and rubbed at them, whispering to himself,

“It’s all in my head.”

“I’m here for you, Tim.”

Gritting his teeth, he dropped his hand and he whipped around, ready to make his denial more firm, wanting to banish this torturous hallucination.

“Timmy?”

The words died in his throat, before a single one was spoken, luckily. When he turned, Kon was gone, and Dick stood in his place, a worried expression plastered all over his gentle features. Suddenly, Tim felt guilt for the episode that had Dick so worried. He only wondered how much he had heard. He swallowed hard. “What’s wrong?” 

“I thought I heard you talking.. and you seem upset.”

“I was just talking out loud to myself, thinking out loud. I was working on this case again..” He shook his head, offering a small smile. “I’m alright.”

Dick didn’t seem completely convinced. 

“Really. I was just lost in thought.”

A weak smile was Dick’s response that time, and Tim saw the worry still reflected in his eyes. But it was an improvement and he’d just be more careful not to worry him. Besides, it wouldn’t happen again. It wouldn’t.

He was trying to convince himself of this even as he saw red, blue, and black lingering in his peripheral vision.

No. He wasn’t there. 

It was all in his head.

“Patrol?” Tim suggested, closing the file and setting it on the desk as he stood. Dick just shook his head. 

“It’s late, little brother. I’m thinking sleep. You could use a night off. When was the last time you slept? And don’t think I haven’t noticed, or haven’t known, just because I wasn’t here for a night. I can tell you’re tired, and not just from the circles under your eyes. Daddy Bats has it under control. I hear he’s got a friend with him tonight, too. So they’ll be fine. If not, he’ll call.”

He knew that by a “friend” he meant that Bruce had Clark working with him tonight. Why was Clark in town? Whatever. It had to be about a case that one or the other was involved in. He had learned to keep out of Bruce’s business until he was called on to help, if he was called on.

Right now the matter that he was being forced to attend to was evidently, sleep. If he didn’t want Dick to worry, he’d have to play along. With his mind wired like it was, it was the last thing he wanted, though. He would have loved the distraction of patrol. To beat down the criminals that were trying to stir up trouble, and possibly take someone else from that one person that just couldn’t bear it. 

He wanted to do something productive. 

“Its either sleep or food. Since while I’m thinking about it, I’m sure you’ve neglected both. Don’t you remember? Caffeine is not food.”

Tim just smirked, closing his eyes. This was normal. This was good. This was sane- well, his sane. “Right. How could I forget.” 

“So food and then sleep?” 

As if he was actually being given a choice. Dick was just being nice enough to disguise it at that, even if the disguise was poor.

“Sure.”

Dick had taken to the kitchen, pulling out a few containers of food that had been clearly brought from the Manor again. That meant Alfred was still spoiling them with his cooking, even from afar. It made him feel bad, in a way, but he also appreciated it. It was something he had grown used to, and something he had been sad to give up when he had moved into his own space - but he had needed to. Besides, they all knew that he, himself,  was better kept from the kitchen. 

He could figure out almost anything, except cooking.

Tonight they were given a pot roast dinner with mashed potatoes, rolls, and various vegetables. Tim had tried to snag coffee for his drink, but had been given a choice of water or milk in stead, evidently being banned from the caffeinated drink he was so fond of. Pouting a bit in response, he just took the bottle of water. Dick seemed all-too-pleased with himself, and grabbed the same. They’d heated up the food and settled on the couch, flicking on the tv.

Dick settled on some primetime sitcom, one Tim had missed the name of, and watched without a word. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dick grinning and snickering to himself. He obviously enjoyed this series. It just made him smile and shake his head, taking another bite of the home cooked meal. When they finished, Dick’s arm slipped around Tim’s shoulders, pulling him in close, his hand beginning to gently play with his hair. He smiled, resting his head on Dick’s shoulder. 

This was good. This was what he was suppose to be doing. 

“Relax, little brother.”

It was just a one time thing. It wouldn’t happen again. Just one of those momentary slip-ups. It happens every now and again for anyone who recovers from something traumatic like that, doesn’t it? Even if he didn’t know why it happened, or what triggered it, it didn’t matter because it wouldn’t happen again. He wouldn’t have to worry Dick anymore. 

It was probably bad that a part of him wanted it to, wasn’t it?

No, he was better.

He was getting better.

It would all go away, and he would just have those  _normal_  moments where he would miss his friend.

And his mind would stop trying to rip him apart with these hallucinations that insulted his memories.

That was all it was.

A hallucination.

_“I’m here for you, Tim._ ”


	2. Distraction

There was an amazing thing that happened that morning when he woke before the sun did. Dick remained beside him on the couch, sound asleep, clinging to Tim. He sighed a bit but smiled, finding himself comfortable. He had remained sleeping against the man, his head still on his chest. He closed his eyes and listened to heart that beat beneath his ribcage. That was a sound that had calmed him many a night after almost any nightmare. The sound of a heartbeat, the sound of life, knowing that the organ was working, doing it’s job, pumping blood through the body of someone he loved.. That was good. That was calming. He hadn’t lost anyone else. 

No matter how much he “recovered” he would never be able to get that fear out of his mind each and every day.

Soundlessly, and without jostling the other man in the least, he reached for his cell phone and brought up its display. It was just after five. That gave him time to get a shower, get dressed, and get on his way. He was going to make today a good day. He was going to work through another day of school, come back, finish his homework, and then go on patrol - but not before reading the reports he had missed from the night before. He wondered if Bruce had been at all bothered by the fact that he had been forced into taking the night off. He doubted it, considering how supportive the man had been. Besides, he was sure that Dick had given him a full run-down and warning. 

So, he took to the task of trying to carefully slip out of Dick’s grasp without waking him. So, shifting as if he was trying to turn over, he felt Dick begin to slowly move with him, though the man’s arms had automatically loosened to give him the space to move. He took the opportunity to swiftly remove himself from his grasp and then watched for a moment, worriedly waiting to see if he had woken him. Dick just turned over and grabbed onto the blanket that had been draped over the both of them sometime during the night. 

Tim smiled and shook his head, moving to walk down the hall towards his bathroom. But as he walked passed his bedroom, which had gone untouched - obviously - the night previous, he saw familiar coloring out of the corner of his eye. He almost groaned, but in stead opted to ignore it all. And the voice that came with it.

“Morning, Sunshine.”

Walking passed, he continued to the bathroom, opening the door and closing it behind him. He could  _hear_ the shuffling against the door that told him Kon was leaning against it.

“Aww. I can’t come too? No fair.”

Ignoring. Ignoring. Ignoring.

Stripping of his clothes, he threw them into the hamper in the corner of the room, moving to the faucet and turning it up to a near scathing heat. 

“I could make that shower a lot more fun, Tim. We both know it.”

His cheeks were flushing before he even stepped into the tub.

“Shut  _up_.” He murmured, more to himself than anything, but it seemed Kon heard anyway. But of course he did, Super-hearing and all.

“Oh! So you have been hearing me, huh, Boy Wonder?”

He could hear the smirk in Kon’s tone. But he ignored it and stepped inside the tub and moved under the water, sliding the shower doors closed. He closed his eyes and let the heated spray pour down over his face. Running his hands through his hair to slick it back, they came to rest at the back of his neck. 

“It’s good that you took a night off, you know.”

So he was going to be the one doing all the talking then, was he? Alright, that was fine, and not very different from the usual. 

“You actually got sleep for once. Not very long, only about, what, five hours?”

There was no response that he gave. He was still trying to prove that ignoring him, and using the silent treatment, would make this horribly real hallucination disappear. 

“But in Bat, that’s comparative to like ten normal people hours, or something, right?”

What was he even going on about? It really seemed like hew as just pulling it out of his ass, which was very likely. Using whatever sense he could think up to use to his advantage, or something of the like. He’d always claimed that he and their “bat family” never made sense anyway. He supposed, though, in a way he was right.

“You even ate. A legitimate meal, too. That’s impressive, Timmy. I guess Dick kinda does take care of you.”

There was an odd, bitter note in his tone by the end of his statement which brought him to open his eyes and glance towards the door. “Well-”  
  
“Yeah. It’s what brothers do or something like that, right? Kind of like what you, Bart, and I did for each other.”

There was a painful chord that was struck in his chest. 

“Yeah.. Kind of.” Came another murmured response. 

An awkward silence fell after that, and Tim just continued on with his shower, going about his business before he finished and shut off the water. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t good. It felt different than a relapse into another round of depression and grief. Especially since, despite his strong will, no matter how much he ignored his hallucination, it just didn’t die - no, that was a bad choice of words -  _fade_  away.

By the time he was sliding the shower door open and beginning to step out, his mind was far away. So when he caught sight of red, black, and blue  _within_  the bathroom, he was caught off guard. In one swift motion, he had put himself off balance, slipped and fallen back to hit his head on the tile of his shower. He slid down, his ankle having been twisted in the process of the fall, and came to rest at the bottom of the tub. 

“S-Shit. Tim!”

His hallucination was by him in seconds, hands inches from his skin, worried about touching him after such a fall. “Tim.. are you alright?”

His vision had blacked out for several moments as his head reeled from the collision. But as the initial shock of it wore off, he began to feel the throbbing pain from his head quite clearly. Groaning and hissing through the pain, he tried to sit up. His head swam through the process, but he felt Kon’s hands on his forearm and at his back, helping him steady himself to move to sit on the toilet, grabbing his towel to throw over his shoulders and torso. “I.. I’m fine..” He thought so, anyway. The dizziness would fade, and so would the throbbing in his head and ankle. He was sure his ankle would be fine in a matter of minutes. His head would probably get better throughout the day - or so he hoped.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d scare you.”

Right, because finding that he had come into his bathroom when he hadn’t heard him come in, especially when he wasn’t supposed to be here at all, would not scare him. No. Of course not. Because this shit was _so normal_  to begin with. He brought a hand to his head and leaned back, letting the back of his head lean against the wall. The dizziness was so intense, he could feel nausea begin to churn in his stomach. Ugh. He really hated being dizzy.

“Are you sure you’re okay? It-” Kon cut himself off, and he had heard the way his voice had caught at the end. That meant he was worried, more so, and maybe even panicking a bit. “You’re  _bleeding_ , Tim.” Cracking his eyes open, he raised a hand to his head, and- yes, there it was, that warm stickiness that came with blood’s presence. He just puffed out a sigh, seeming only irritated and inconvenienced by this new revelation. 

“Tim!”

He shut his eyes tight once more, the loud banging at the door not doing anything good for his head. 

“Tim are you alright? I heard a crash..”

He was silently begging for Dick to stop slamming his fist against the door. “I’m  _fine_ , Dick.” He opened his eyes once more and looked to Kon’s face. It was a very careful expression, which brought him to raise an eyebrow. He didn’t understand it. What was…

He heard the door open and looked over to see Dick letting himself in.

“Are you su- _Tim!_ What happened?!” He pressed, rushing over to kneel in front of him, eyes panicked and searching as he looked over every inch of him.

“I slipped when I was getting out. I guess I wasn’t being careful enough. I’m really okay though, Dick.”

“The fact that you’re bleeding says otherwise.” There was specific kind of worry showing in Dick’s eyes which made Tim’s gut tie itself into knots. It was the same look he got when Dick seemed to worry about if he would sleep, or when he would wake up screaming, or if he was just going to throw himself off of a cliff. Dick brought a hand to rest against his cheek before he sighed and stood to get a better look at his bloodied injury. 

Tim’s eyes flashed to Kon, who was still watching him with the same expression, though he had stepped back when Dick came in. They both knew that at this moment, he was simply a bystander. He was forced to take a backseat. Tim had no doubt that he had the same pain in his chest at that thought and fact. After all, neither of them wanted it that way. They resented reality because it was that way.

Though Tim had been brought to a point of acceptance. He had accepted that Kon was gone, no matter how unfair it was. He had accepted Dick into his life to love and care for him. He had accepted Dick who had wanted to help him heal, and he let him do that. He had been healed, though still always healing, and now… Things were unraveling.

“Let’s get this cleaned up, okay? I need to get a better look at it.”

Dick moved to grab his washcloth, getting fresh water on it before he brought it to gently wipe away the blood around and on the wound. As Dick was inspecting the wound, Tim’s eyes never left Kon’s face until Dick would turn to look at him, and would have noticed. He was careful not to allow him to notice this gaze - for it would help nothing. He didn’t want questions. He didn’t want the worry. He didn’t want Dick to know that they were practically back at square one. 

“Timmy, I think I’m going to need to stitch this up. Stay right here, okay? I’m going to get the kit.”

Tim just nodded, catching the smile that was thrown his way for assurance.  As Dick left the room to go get the first aid kid, he watched Kon’s smile turn bitter.

“He gets to take care of you. He’s gotten to take care of you this  _whole time_.” 

He allowed his eyes to fall to the floor, guilt making a prominent establishment in his chest. 

“I should get to do that, you know.”

_‘Stop. Please.’_  He didn’t want to hear what he already knew. What part of him was constantly wishing for. 

“I’m the one who loves you,  _really_ loves you.”

The anger, frustration, and bitterness were a strong cocktail of well communicated emotion. He felt them strongly, though he was feeling them with Kon, for Kon. 

“He only gets to do this because I wasn’t here. But it should still be  _me_. And I know you want it to be me.”

Tim had begun to bite his lip, feeling the burn that came from the line of his teeth that pressed into the flesh, threatening to break it. He wanted to respond, yell, scream, and cry to him to have him understand because he seemed to understand just a very, very small part of it. But he couldn’t. Dick was just down the hall, surely coming back in just a moment, and if he came back to him yelling at his dead best friend - whom he knew he could not see - then everything really would be ruined. 

“But then again, I did this, huh?”

No, don’t do that. He didn’t blame him. He didn’t. He loved him far too much to blame him for anything. 

“I did all of this.”

“Kon..” He whispered, voice dripping with the pain that was swirling inside his chest. He wanted to tell him, needed to tell him—

“Just… know that I’m here for you, Tim.”

That again?

“You still doing okay?” 

Dick was back, first aid kit in hand, and small, worried smile still present. He sat the kit on the edge of the sink that was right next to them both, and moved to stand right before him once more. He opened the box, getting out the necessary items, as well as the syringe and anesthetic that he would likely try and refuse. 

Tim nodded, willing his pained expression away, though it only partially worked. Blue, black, and red was gone from his peripheral vision. A sigh left him then, and a bit of the strain he felt faded. “Yeah. I’ll be alright.”


	3. Pain

“Tim.”

Pause.

“ _Tim_. Would you stop and listen for just a second?”

It had been like this for the last twenty minutes or so. Once he had gotten himself stitched up, he was off dressing himself and towel drying his hair - carefully, thanks to that new wound. He was moving on like nothing had happened in the last few minutes, and he was just focused on what needed to be done. Dick, on the other hand, was very focused on his recent events.

“Tim. You could have a concussion. I know I shouldn’t have to explain just what that could mean—”

“And you don’t. Dick, I know there is that possibility but I am fine. Besides, it’s not like I won’t be in a well monitored environment. If something happens, I’ll be taken care of, and then I’m sure they’ll contact you or Bruce.”

He was panicking again because he’d given him more than enough reasons to worry in the last 24 hours. Dick was starting to wonder and look a little closer. He had to get himself together. 

“Really, Dick. I promise. I’m alright. I feel fine. I felt dizzy when it first happened, and my head was throbbing, but that went away. Besides that, my ankle, and the wound, are just a bit sore. I’ll take something for them before I leave. And to top it all off, I can even text you once I get to school.” Then, just for him, he smiled like he meant it, and he did. He was happy Dick cared so much. He was glad to have such a good brother. He just wished he didn’t see that expression so much..

But there was a sigh then that told him some of the stress and worry died away. His eyes softened and he placed a hand on Tim’s cheek before he leaned down to brush his lips against his own, leaning their foreheads together. “Alright.” He said quietly. “Just please be more careful, alright? I think you’re going to make me go gray.”

He couldn’t help a snicker then and shook his head as he pulled back. “Well at least you’d look good gray.”

“You think?”

He shook his head once more as he leaned forward to give him a quick peck. “You’re going to make me late.”

He’d been able to break away and get to school with just enough time to spare. Exchanging his backpack for the books he would need, he waded through the crowded hallway to get to his classroom and his seat. The volume that echoed from each and every conversation was no quieter in the classroom than it had been in the hallway. Everyone had catching up to do, like always. Text messages, Instant messages, and e-mails never sufficed for expressing just enough excitement of whatever their topic was. In the meantime, he just stayed quiet and closed his eyes. 

There were still eyes that followed him curiously in this school. Everyone wanted to know the real story about Tim Drake turned Wayne. The normal kid that had always held an air of mystery beyond the monumental nerdiness had somehow caught the attention of the city’s richest man. He’d been the most common topic of gossip for months, and right now, he was probably still in the top ten after all this time. 

“Look at you. All popular with your peers. No longer just nerdy Timmy.”

Of course. Of  _course_  he was back. 

“You hated school when you were actually here. So why subject yourself to it again?”

He kept his voice low, murmuring under his breath while moving his lips as little as possible. He didn’t need people thinking he was crazy here, too. High School was brutal enough without such assumptions on your character, and he already had the strike of “nerd” against him.

“Hmm. Probably ‘cause I can do whatever I want at this point and not real with anything coming back to bite me in the butt.”

Of course, but that didn’t mean that this was going to be any more exciting for him. He was still limited, and Tim did not plan on playing the game to keep him from getting bored. 

As predicted, they weren’t even half way through second period by the time Kon started to groan and gripe. 

“I didn’t think it was possible, but I think I am getting bored to death. These classes are even worse than the ones I got stuck in! This is punishment. Why do you subject yourself to this? You could’ve stayed home today, man. You should’ve.”

“You don’t have to stay.” He shot at him quietly. “I can barely concentrate as it is. And my head is killing me.” 

Kon raised an eyebrow, a bit taken aback by the response. “Ouch. Grumpy.” But when he watched the other’s eyes narrow, he took things a bit more seriously. “…Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Fine. Just.. I’m just trying to focus.” But his vision was swimming and every time he closed his eyes he felt like someone was spinning him in a circle endlessly. He crossed his arms on his desk and pressed his forehead to his forearms. This was their free time for work to use it how they wished since the lecture was over, and for once he would be using it to rest in stead of being productive. He’d find time to complete what he needed to later. He always figured it out one way or another.

“Tim. Hey, Tim. Don’t fall asleep. You’ll miss when class lets out. And besides, I don’t think you should be sleeping in your condition.”

“My “condition”?” He questioned with irritation. “I’m fine, Kon. It’s a headache.”

“It’s probably a concussion. I’m not that stupid, dude.”

“I didn’t say you were.” And that was a good point. He hadn’t insulted him, jokingly or not, like he usually would have. He didn’t have it in him. Not right now. So as the bell sounded for the end of the period, he stood. As if he hadn’t been feeling bad enough before, the feeling echoed and grew. He couldn’t do this. Not today. It wasn’t going away like he’d thought. 

Navigating the halls was a lot harder than usual. Being jostled through the crowd didn’t help anything of what he was feeling. He was walking automatically, just knowing his destination and allowing his feet to carry him there while Kon murmured worriedly and encouragingly to him. He could imagine the look on his face that was paired with that tone. 

As he reached the opposite end of the school, he descended the stairs to the basement that was mostly for maintenance and storage. He just needed a minute, and this was the most quiet and private place he could go without leaving school grounds. As he was, he wouldn’t have been able to get very far anyway. He turned the knob to a room around the corner, the only one in its area, he slipped inside. 

It was a single stall bathroom. Nicer than the ones upstairs, and a hell of a lot cleaner, it also had the perk of a lock on the door. Making use of said lock, he then moved to the wall, not too far from the toilet, and slid down the wall to sit. His breathing had become uneven, and there was sweat on his brow as his stomach churned. Tilting his head back, he tried to at least calm his breathing, hoping it would help the burning nausea as well. 

Feeling Kon sit down beside him, he was almost startled by the warmth at his side, and that wrapped around his shoulder as his arm settled there. He was pulled close, and in this moment, he couldn’t resist the the comfort that was offered. He didn’t want to try and battle his mind in that moment. He knew it wasn’t real, that Kon wasn’t there, but just once, just for this moment, he wanted to believe that he was. That in this moment, he was being allowed a miracle so he could just feel a little bit better.

Then again, he only felt like this because of his own stupid mess up. He had been a klutz and now he was paying for it. On top of that, he’d been stubborn and hadn’t listened to Dick’s concern. He’d be hearing about it later if he didn’t get himself together before he had to give in and call him.

Leaning his head on his hallucination’s shoulder, he closed his eyes, feeling the fingers thread through his hair and begin gentle, even strokes to add to the comfort. His hand reached up to grasp onto the front of his shirt tightly, distorting the bright red S shield that stood out against the black fabric. 

“You’re supposed to be here.”

He felt Kon tense against him and tighten his grasp on him as he rubbed his upper arm. “I know.”

“I had gotten better, you know.”

Kon didn’t respond this time.

“And now I’m just turning in to a mess all over again.”

“..I’m sorry.”

“I can’t tell if I actually want you here now, or if it’s okay for me to. I keep wishing that you’re really here, somehow, and it isn’t just my imagination. That it’s some stupid meta thing I don’t know about, or don’t understand yet. Because it isn’t  _fair_  that everyone else lost Clark once, and he came back.. And now I lose you, and I don’t get you back. It’s just sick, right? So I want to hope that somehow I’m wrong, and that this isn’t all in my head. That I’m not going back on all of the progress Dick tried so hard to make with me. So tell me you’re here… You’re actually here.”

Tim didn’t open his eyes to look up at the expression that crossed over Kon’s face this time, and it wasn’t something he could sense, either. He just rested against him, trying to equalize his breathing and calm his stomach. He was making progress in the first, but the second was not giving way. His head was still swimming, and more than ever. It was working against him, with his stomach. Before Kon gave him a response, he was scrambling for the toilet bowl and heaving. 

The Super just sighed and rubbed the boy’s back in small circles, trying to provide further comfort while he couldn’t have him in his arms.

  
“I’m here for you, Tim.”

Not another word was spoken.

It took him nearly two hours to be able to manage focusing on his phone long enough to send a concise text, short but with the proper explanation, to Dick. It had taken another half hour for the man to get to the school, pick the lock of the bathroom, and gather him into his arms to take him back to the car. Tim couldn’t bring himself to meet Kon’s eyes, but he felt the squeeze of his hands before Dick lifted him out of the hallucinated meta’s grasp.

“Leave it to you to get  _out_ of supervision at a time when you  _need_  it, little brother.” 

Dick attempted to smile, but saw, instead, that Tim was pale and had managed no response. He should have made him stay home, and now he was berating himself for it.  “I’m sorry, Timmy.” He told him softly, sitting him in the passenger seat of the car, and buckling him in. He sighed and brushed the boy’s bangs from his face. He had been right to worry about the concussion. That brought him to wonder if he was right to worry about the rest.

In this moment, he was glad that the drive home wasn’t so long. The jostling of the car made everything feel that much worse, and the wound on his head had been throbbing for quite a while now. Concussions were the worst. It left him wishing he could trade it for a broken bone, or a gaping wound somewhere else. That he could deal with. That pain could be managed. Head injuries just caused too many problems that couldn’t be managed too well — no matter how much training you’d had. That, in itself, was frustrating.

“Bed or couch?” 

Those were the options he was given when he was lifted from the car - despite protests that he was perfectly capable of walking, even if he probably wasn’t. It seemed that Dick had decided not to listen to him when it came to his well being, for at least the rest of the day.

“Couch.”

His bed had been rather neglected lately, and the couch was just easier. Besides, it was still the bed that he’d shared with Kon so many nights. He was having a hard enough time without trying to challenge himself, even if it shouldn’t have been a challenge anymore. Dick might have been reading his mind on that sense because there was just a bit of a knowing twitch in his smile as he nodded and they entered his apartment. He supposed he should have been grateful that he hadn’t gotten himself in enough trouble with Dick to be taken back to the Manor.

As he was settled on the couch, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the arm. 

“I hope you know that this means another night off so you can rest.”

Tim let the argument die in his throat. 


End file.
